


Stuck in the middle (of a shower stall) with you.

by cailures



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, fuck you i bet you taste like dried glue, water fell and swirled
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-14 13:36:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2193735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cailures/pseuds/cailures
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a contrivance so Harry and Draco can get nasty with each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stuck in the middle (of a shower stall) with you.

**Author's Note:**

> FOR # 8
> 
> Background Ron/Hermione and brief mention of Ginny/Luna

Harry supposed it could have been worse. After all, he could have been out on patrol with Dawlish or Sloper when the call broke. 

“It’s soaked right through your clothes, mate.” Ron said, using the tip of his wand to try and pry Harry’s robe collar from his neck to no avail. “I reckon it’s only going to get worse as it dries.”

“You reckon so?” Malfoy asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Well, I’m certainly glad that the elite of Magical Law Enforcement were called in or we might never know that permanent sticking glue works best after it’s dried!”

Whatever venomous effect he was hoping to have was muted by the ineffectual flailing of his arms as he tried to punctuate his words with his hands but could not, his left arm stuck wrapped around Harry’s waist and his right glued to Harry’s left from where they’d collided when the cauldron had exploded. After a few moments of this struggling against Harry’s dead weight, Malfoy huffed and turned his head, his face turning pink. As Malfoy’s chest and thighs were glued to Harry as well, it was the only respite he could find from Ron’s glare.

“Harry, I came as soon as I was heard!” rang Hermione’s voice from the doorway. He was glad to see that she had come alone. Skeeter had been having a field day with him lately: between the end of his relationship with Ginny and his attempts to tell the truth about Snape, the rumours were that he had finally cracked from the strain of it all. He really didn’t need to add his ineptitudes as one of the youngest Aurors in the department’s history to the list.

“Granger,” Malfoy drawled, and both Harry and Ron turned to look at him. Ron, who seemed to hover even more around Hermione since she announced her pregnancy, reminded Harry of Crookshanks when he was ready to strike some unsuspecting prey as he watched Malfoy carefully. 

But the expected insult never came. Taking it as the greeting it was intended as, Hermione blinked at him, nodded her head, and murmured, “Malfoy,” in reply before turning her attention back to situation at hand.

“I did some reading on the way here,” she said, lifting her Wizardbook that gave her access to every book in the Hogwarts library and beyond. Harry had often wondered what had been a bigger source of inspiration for Ron and George - Hermione or Riddle’s diary.

“We have three option as I see it. I think the sensible thing to do would be to go to St. Mungo’s and let them--”

“No!” Malfoy and Harry said in unison, causing her to recoil. 

“Really, Harry, it’s better to leave something like this to experts, don’t you think?”

Malfoy huffed again and fidgeted, his breath hot against Harry’s neck and his thigh rubbing up against Harry’s body in a way that was equal parts disturbing and distracting. 

“I don’t want the attention,” Harry said, nearly spitting the words.

Hermione opened her mouth but it was Ron who spoke. “If we can’t find a better solution, we’ll try Mungo’s but let’s consider all our options, yeah?”

“Well, there is one thing we could try,” Hermione conceded, moving the pages of the Wizardbook as she read. With the sunlight streaming in behind her from an unshuttered window, her hair looked like a frizzy halo around her head. “There is an Unsticking Oil that is called for in situations just like this. It does call for several gallons and require the oil to be rubbed onto the skin for hours until it has fully penetrated the surface and dissolved the glue.”

Harry wasn’t sure what made him more uncomfortable, the suggestion, the look of distaste on Ron’s face, or the muttered obscenities Malfoy was breathing onto his neck as he cursed everyone under the sun. 

Unaware of all of this, Hermione read on. “Oh, but it takes twenty-four hours to brew. We don’t have that kind of time!”

“We could look in the shops for it, if all else fails,” Ron muttered, scratching the back of his neck.

“Yes, I suppose,” Hermione answered distractedly, flipping through the pages and trying various search terms as she did. “Oh, well, this could work. ‘While the mixture is still wet, soaking it in hot water can dilute it making it easy to remove from clothing, skin, or other unwanted surfaces.’”

She gave Harry a look of triumph. “Where’s the nearest bath?”

***

As it so happened, the master potioneer Malfoy was studying under had an outdoor shower in his back garden for just this purpose. It was a small stall, clearly built for one, but he and Malfoy managed to squeeze in with some help from Hermione and Ron. After some fretting on Hermione’s part, she and Ron had agreed to leave with a promise they would check up on them in an hour if they hadn’t heard anything.

His back back pressed tight against the wall as Malfoy had insisted on being right under the spigot, Harry tried to get comfortable. The water was on the hottest setting they could bear and his glasses were foggy. With a sigh, he pulled them off and slipped them into his robe pocket.

Malfoy snorted at this and Harry turned to face him - or tried to, at any rate. Instead, his nose brushed along Malfoy’s jaw and he felt a strange sensation low in the pit of his stomach before trying to pull away.

His attempts only made Malfoy laugh. “So, Potter, the Weasley girl ditched you for Lovegood? That must sting.”

The dirty look Harry shot him only seemed to convince Malfoy to continue. “I mean, it’s bad enough to lose her to a friend but a _female_ friend? Were you that disappointing she swore off dick forever? God, Potter.”

“Shut up.”

“I always figured Weasley would leave you for Longbottom, truth be told. They were joined at the _hip_ while you were away,” Malfoy said in a conspiratorial whisper against his cheek. Harry wasn’t sure if it was the words or the water but he felt unbearably hot as Malfoy spoke. “Maybe it wasn’t you. Maybe it was Longbottom who turned her for the other team. Of course, that would mean she was fucking the both of them while you were away --”

“Piss off, Malfoy,” Harry spat, wishing he had just one hand free so he could sink his fist into Malfoy’s face. He had to settle for pushing against Malfoy instead, some of his his clothing ripping free as the glue dissolved under the hot water. Malfoy pulled away just as Harry pushed forward, allowing Harry’s thigh to slide between Malfoy’s legs, the heavy weight of Malfoy’s wet robe and trousers not enough to conceal the bulge therein.

Malfoy went suddenly still, his face a bright pink, jaw set and eyes staring ahead. Harry couldn’t say what compelled him to rub his thigh against Malfoy but watching his reaction, the vein in his neck pulsing and the deepening flush on his face, was fascinating. Malfoy turned to face him, his normally pale eyes unusually dark and a smirk playing on his lips.

With one hard shove - some of the force likely from Malfoy slipping on the wet tile - he pushed Harry hard against the wall, their bodies pressed together. Harry was already half-hard before Malfoy decided to rock against him, his fingers digging into Harry’s hip as he thrusted.  
“Well, it seems our hero is a robe-lifter,” Draco whispered in Harry’s ear, his face pressed against his. “Wouldn’t Skeeter have a field day with that?”

Harry gave him another shove, ripping his right hand free to land a clumsy punch to the side of Malfoy’s head, hitting his elbow against the spigot in the process. Malfoy pulled out of reach, resting on the other side of the stall with a sneer on his face as he looked at him.

A thousand retorts flew through Harry’s mind along with the numb realization that he was free, the heat and water having done their jobs. 

Finally, Malfoy broke his gaze, looking at the door while adjusting his robes. “Don’t worry, Potter, your sexual confusion is not that interesting to me.”

“Good.”

Malfoy glanced over at this, a guarded look in his eyes. Later, lying in bed with Draco beside him, he would marvel at how much easier it would have been to just walk away

Harry pushed Malfoy against the wall, grabbing at the front of his robe with two fists as he kissed him. It was strange at first, almost too polite for what he was trying to do but then Malfoy relented, pulling him flush against him, his hard cock pressing against Harry’s thigh.

“We have twenty minutes before Granger and Weasley get - ah - back,” Malfoy said as he licked and sucked along the curve of Harry’s throat while Harry thrusted against him. “Try not to make me swear off dick forever, yeah?”

“Shut up,” Harry whispered before kissing him again.

The End.


End file.
